HIS HORN BLEW AT MIDNIGHT PART II
The pretty little wench, Gwendolyn had never paused long enough to inquire after my name, but her mother the more logical Simone put the question to me shortly after rising the next morning.
I am certain that I roused her immediate suspicions when I took a little longer than expected to answer the simple question. In God’s truth, I was not going to say my name was Mabel Murphy. At least, not while in possession of a nine inch cock. The only thing I could come up with was the name of the French diplomat. So I became Alfonse in that moment. When she asked my family name, I hesitated to reveal the fellow’s credentials, so I merely said,
“Alfonse D’Paris, my dear Simone. My family has lived there for many generations.”
Simone caught on fast and did not press me further. Closed mouthed strangers were the norm in 833AD. It was one of the first rules of survival with the myriad blood feuds that abounded in the strangest of places.
Gwendolyn was still abed and I could hear her snores even at the other end of the shack. Her mother looked at her and then up at me and I could tell she had mischief on her mind when she unfurled my pole from its resting place inside my breeches. It was a simple operation without a codpiece.
The wetness of Simone’s ripe mouth was soothing and yet most exciting. She was missing a number of teeth on one side of her mouth and the absence created a soft spot on her gums that stroked my shaft with an unforgettable sensitivity driving me to shuddering distraction. I surmised this was the result of an accident or an injury as the remainder of her teeth seemed in fine and healthy condition.
The mature woman bobbed her head with a determined degree of purpose. I was surprised that she was cupping my ass cheeks with her hands and was forcibly spreading my cheeks open for exploratory probing with her long middle digit. This spirited stimulation of my prostate caused me to leak copious pre-cum into the attractive woman’s mouth. It mixed frothily with her own saliva and I felt as if I was driving my cock into a pool of creamy female juice. My own juices were fast speeding to release.
Simone looked up at me with knowing eyes. She obviously was an expert at this game.
I put both of my hands on the back of her head taking hold of her lustrous black hair and pushed her to the base of shaft just as I spewed my load into her gagging throat. Her coughing woke her daughter and I heard Gwendolyn call out,
“Is everything all right?”
Simone was giggling behind her hand as she tried to mute her reaction to my bestowal of creamy cum into her gullet. Two lines of white cream dribbled down from the sides of her mouth and dripped with depraved sensuality from the tip of her slightly pointed chin. Unable to resist, I leaned forward and kissed her full on the lips and pushed my greedy tongue inside her skillful mouth. I could feel her heart beating fast and she trembled in my encircling arms like a young maiden on her first date.
It was a very welcoming household, but I had no hopes of finding true love here with either Simone or her lovely daughter Gwendolyn. They were both charming creatures, but I suspected they would denounce me in a trice if cornered into admitting base fornication with a strange male.
The directions Simone gave me were quite good and I departed mid-day for the thriving town of Lyon and the opportunity to view some of the French hierarchy at close range. Simone was kind enough to souvenir me with a clean shirt and breeches belonging to her deceased husband. Gwendolyn pressed a kerchief filled with cheese and bread into my hand and whispered,
“Watch out for those city girls. The say they want your cock but they are really after your money.”
I pondered that this fact was true after more than a thousand years. It was a singular constant reinforcing the premise regardless of clime or place.
I laughed because I was without a single coin in my purse. In fact, I had no purse.
Once I had traversed a fairly wide stream, almost a river, it was downhill all the way to the little city. The traffic on the road was becoming more evident and several farm carts carrying produce and live animals were all headed into the central market.
It was difficult for me to comprehend all of the slurred dialects being spoken from the hinterlands but every now and then some school taught French entered my ears with a delicate flavor of civilized breeding. I saw a very dirty looking female perched on her rump on the back of a jouncing cart in front of me. She had sparkling eyes and a nubile air of repressed sensuality about her. Each bump in the road set her well-endowed breasts to jumble and quiver in erotic fashion. She hiked up her bodice and addressed me in a jocular manner.
“Got an eyeful of my pretty little pair, do you?”
I smiled because that is exactly what I was engaged in so doing.
“I compliment you on their fine construction, my dear. I hope your bottom is not too bruised from that hard seat you have taken.”
The young girl giggled and turned her shapely rear end to me for my viewing.
“Would you like to inspect it up close and personal, my handsome stranger?”
This was an invitation I was quite prone to take up and approached closer to the damsel. She was quite comely despite the dirty clothes and the handicap of an unwashed face. Her hair was relatively clean and smelled of nutmeg or cinnamon seed.
“My name is Alfonse. Would you care to take a short respite under that shade tree and share my cheese and bread?”
The spirited young female jumped off the cart almost into my arms and followed me to the shade of the sturdy tree keeping watch over the main road into the city center. The grass was dry and the area was devoid of pesky insects normally found along the dusty road.
“They call me Nicolette. I am the daughter of Sir Hugh of Lyon but my dear departed mama was a lady of physical pleasure well renowned for her expertise in satisfying many partners in one night.”
At first, I thought the girl was having verbal sport with me, but I discerned she was in deadly earnest when she made a motion with her hand that cast the thought of her forebears away from her like an unwelcome curse.
We gobbled down the delicious cheese and bread so thoughtfully provided by Gwendolyn. Nicolette produced a flask of some very tasty wine from the vineyards of southern France and it made the tasty treat slide down with very little difficulty. I took some water from the stream nearby and used a clean area of my shirt to wipe the streaks from Nicolette’s pretty face. Her lips were ruby red and when she momentarily let her tongue emerge, I was taken with its sensual pointy shape and sense of flexibility.
Nicolette and I lay back onto the soft, matted green grass. I allowed my exploring hand to rest comfortably on her rounded breast. I could feel her nipple begin to rise in some degree of expectancy. I felt her chest rise and fall with an increased rapidity that spoke of her need for immediate copulation.
Soon we were intertwined in a jumble of arms and legs invisible in the tall grass. When I finally entered into her little garden of paradise, she whimpered in complete submission and opened wide for deep penetration of her wet and clutching female core.
It was the way she trembled and shook that reminded me of my life as Mabel Murphy. I was reminded how I would spread my legs wide and take a stout cock deep inside and hang like an impaled butterfly on a probing shaft.
I knew I had to allow my constrained juices to spurt out right away and could simply not delay it any longer. I could see in Nicolette’s eyes her reaction to my heated splashes on the interior wall of her vagina. She squirmed and wiggled and groaned with each successive stream of cum. In spite of all that I could tell she did not achieve a satisfactory orgasm.
Slowly, I eased my long dripping wet cock from her exquisite pulsating cave and lifted her hips to my probing tongue. As soon as I replaced my cock with the gentle touch of an inquisitive wet tongue, Nicolette started to scream in a shrill voice as if I was driving a dagger into her heart. Little squirts of female juices began to shoot high into the air. The tree looked down at the convulsing maiden and allowed the wind to rustle its leaves in haunting waves of sonic dismay. I glanced to insure the travelers on the road below were not induced to believe some poor female was being taken against her will by robbers on the road. There was no hue and cry, so I attended to Nicolette’s hungry pussy bringing her to an all-consuming release that left her shuddering in a heap on the grass.
I flipped the young girl over and contemplated her lovely buttocks. With my hands, I pulled her cheeks apart and saw her tiny wrinkled hole was opening and closing in heated waves of passion. I wanted badly to enter her little brown hole but knew we had to get back on the road to be safely inside the city proper before the sun set below the horizon.
Nicolette was almost bouncing down the road filled with my liquid offerings and savoring the touch of my tongue in her lovely quim. I could see her nipples were still aroused and pushing against the thin fabric of her peasant blouse. I could not help but think of that waiting puckered brown hole and the feel of her tight channel clutching around my rampant cock.
It was so nice to be a man now and be a great deal more worry-free in my amorous pursuits.
When I was a female, it was so much more restrictive with thoughts of being taken advantage of, being dumped by a two-timing heel, getting pregnant, or winding up in a submissive role to a male who might use me, abuse me, and leave me by the wayside when he tired of me.
The watchman questioned our destination and purpose in the city. Before I could respond, Nicolette replied,
“Just visiting my brother’s family behind the Cathedral, your worship. Mayhap you know of him, Carl the Ironmonger. He is a man much respected.”
The watchman waved them on, already bored with them and eyeing a cart filled with pitchers of brew destined for the tavern. He was expecting a small token of appreciation in the form of a jug from the driver. It was customary and helped make his job a little less depressing.
Nicolette told me it was always best to have a place to go for the watchmen because they were wont to turn people away with no business in the city. She told me to follow her to the home of her pretend brother who worked in the nearby tavern. His name was Johann and not Carl as she had told the watchman. Johann was a jovial fellow who seemed on the verge of drunkenness most of the time. He set them up in the stable storage room with some quilted bedding and some simple furnishings to make it somewhat habitable for a short stay.
It was dark already and without candles, we just bedded down for the night in each other’s arms.
Even though I was quite tired, I was determined to secure entry of Nicolette’s brown hole. I worked and worked at her tiny entryway and finally met with success shortly after the young girl fell into an uneasy sleep. I was astonished that I slipped inside her slick and hot rear channel after her eyes had closed and she had relaxed in total limpness in my arms. I held her bottom pinned beneath me on the quilt and very slowly pushed deeper and deeper up into her pulsating rectum. She stirred against me and reached back with her hand to see what was poking into her bottom. The girl stroked the outside portion of my shaft like a familiar stranger. She sighed and went into an involuntary humping motion that milked my cock like a milkmaid draining every drop of cream from a placid cow.
I was not sure if she was awake or in a dreamlike trance, but she did go into a shuddering anal orgasm that made me shoot my full load into her clutching pucker hole. We both fell asleep with my still erect cock buried deep inside Nicolette’s sweet bottom.
When we awoke the next morning, I had gotten hard again and we resumed our coupling with renewed energy.
Nicolette begged me to leave it in just a bit longer and moved her bottom up and down and from side to side in a most energetic manner driving me to pound into her tight hole with a frenzy of urgent passion. The sound of my bloated sacs slapping into her dripping wet pussy was loud enough to wake all the animals in the stable. They were most curious to see our technique of coupling. Nicolette was panting like an exhausted mount ready to drop to the stable floor. I delivered a copious load that made her groan with pleasure and the feel of her delicate sphincter fluttering about my shaft was sheer delight.
Today was the day I would confront the powers that be to determine my fate in this strange place.
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<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/straight-sex/his-horn-blew-at-midnight-part-ii.aspx">His Horn Blew at Midnight Part II</a>